


Unlawful

by pinkdogwood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bi Lee Jordan, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Compliant, Durmstrang best friend, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, MACUSA, guy chasing girl, i would say that my ofc's family is on the dark side of the force, if i leave this fanfiction for a long time i will probably return and mass update, kind George Weasley, uses both books and movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkdogwood/pseuds/pinkdogwood
Summary: Haunted by her past, Amara Wright is the resident recluse in Hogwarts. Even if she was sorted in Gryffindor, she was the farthest thing from it. Brave, loyal, and determined are the most prominent characteristics of a Gryffindor, and Amara is the farthest thing from it.Every friendship Amara had been in failed. So when she becomes 'friends' with George Weasley she needs to learn to embrace her inner Gryffindor, in hopes to keep him as a friend.orWhen an eager George Weasley falls in love with a shy Amara Wright, while she tries to furiously run away from it.
Relationships: George Weasley/OC, George Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Yikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew tripping on stairs could lead to a lifelong relationship.

Sitting next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Amara sighs. She spends every day going to class, then she does her homework, and then she goes to sleep. Regret washes over her body, why did she ever go with Professor McGonagall.

Coming to Hogwarts was a great miscalculation on her part, she expected happiness and friendship to come along with this school, but all she got was loneliness. Gryffindor's were supposed to be loud, unafraid, and great companions, but Amara was the opposite.

She was shy, afraid, and she was a terrible friend. Amara values friendship as much as the next gal, but she admired and enjoyed long spans of alone time. Making her a bad companion, even causing her to lose friends.

Shaking off her despair Amara closes her advanced potions book, even after six years in Hogwarts, she was still a hermit.

Walking as softly as possible up the stairs to the girl's dormitory Amara winces, her footsteps were awfully loud, and it was four in the morning. Reaching the twelfth step her dark brown eyes widen.

The step suddenly inclines in and Amara goes flying down the stairs, her back sliding down each stair in the staircase, before she falls completely down to the common room in a heap of human misfortune.

"Shit," she swears under her breath, relinquishing in shame, not moving to get up. Her head was spinning, and she seriously contemplated going to the hospital wing.

Feeling as her worst nightmares were coming true, Amara quickly tries to stand; placing her weight on her feet she curses. The pain spiraling through her legs swiftly causes her to fall once again, in a heap of human flesh that hurt more than before.

The realization that anyone could walk into the room and see her in fetal position coddling her legs, rapidly produced anxiety to build in her body. Knowing that no one would help her, Amara tried to stand once again. The only difference is that she was successful this time.

Breathing a slight sigh of relief Amara realized she would have to either climb the stairs again and risk being thrown down in that savage way. Or she would have to climb down three flights of stairs to the hospital wing while being chased by finch. Disliking both the options Amara chooses to just fall asleep on one of the several plush chairs in the common room.

Using up all her energy she lightly jogs to the back of the common room with a heavy limp where she would be hidden from intruding eyes in the morning. Slamming herself into the soft chair she recoils her face cringing. Pain flowing through her system she silences herself from any audible sounds.

Searching her mind she looks for her schedule for the next day. Okay, tomorrow is two free periods in the morning, Advanced Potions at 11:40 AM for two periods, and Transfiguration at 1:55 PM. So, that means she could miss breakfast and spend the first and second period in the hospital wing, with time to spare.

Attempting to fall asleep Amara continues to feel searing pain fill her, trying to disregard it she relaxes her body. A few minutes fly past and she grows droopy, her eyes grow heavier and heavier before she enters a deep level of sleep.

________________

"Do you think she's dead?"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Always am, Freddie."

Amara jolts awake hearing two loud voices explode into her ears, the peace of her slumber being awoken by two noises erupting next to her. Her chocolate-colored pools exposing themselves as her eyes burst open with shock. Frowning she looks side to side, meeting two mostly identical faces smiling at her.

"Hello," the face on the left of her remarked with a grin on his face.

"Who are you?" the other face inquired an identical grin, engulfing his face.

"No one," Amara quips, hoping one of the faces wouldn't say 'hello no one'.

Moving to stand up she notices the issue with her leg increased tenfold.

"Shit, shit, shit, ouch," exclaimed whimpering with each second, before collapsing into the chair again.

"What time is it?" she swiftly looks at the two faces in question.

"It's about 10:45, love," the face on the left speaks, watching her face transform into a panic.

"I've got to go," her voice comes out as fearful, as her eyes scan the common room, seeing that nobody else is around, she breathes a sigh of relief.

"Not, with that leg, you won't," one of the faces says, being followed by the other face.

"We can help you get to class, Amara,"

"How do you know my name?" she asks, before shaking her head and realizing that she should probably be focusing on getting to the hospital wing. "Never mind, just help me get to the hospital wing."

Looking at their faces as they seem to communicate telepathically she examines them, they're both gingers, so they probably belonged to the Weasley clan, oh god, twins and Weasleys mean Fred and George

Weasley, their names were spoken a lot around the halls. Amara didn't think they were in the same class over the past six years, which even in a world of wizardry is highly impossible.

Continuing to look at their facial features she notices their brown eyes, and abundant freckles littering their faces. But looking closely she notices their differences: the one on the right had a rounder shorter face, while the one on the left had a slimmer face with a mole on the side of his neck.

"If you're done staring at us, you would like to hear that we will skip transfiguration to get you to the hospital wing," the right guy says, as the left guy abruptly picks Amara up bridal style.

"Please, don't squeeze the legs," she grimaces when his warm hands touch her thighs.

As the trio make their way through the door Amara realizes she's still calling them left and the right guy.

"What are your names?"

"I'm Gred and he's Forge," the one on the right states, with a slight smile gracing his face.

"So, you're George and he's Fred?" she pronounces, her eyes flickering to Fred's face before looking up to George's.

"I would hope," Fred quipped, "It would be awful if you thought I had Georgie's face, I naturally look more handsome, it's an awfully bad first impression."

"Don't worry Amara, Fred isn't always this obnoxious," George affirms Amara sending her a wink.

"Don't worry Amara, I always am."

The twins soon started talking about the Triwizard Tournament and how to scam their way into it, as the trio reached the fifth floor.

"Do you think you could help us?" Fred questions Amara, raising an eyebrow at her while she uncomfortably shifts in George's arms.

"I think you're plan sounds awfully unlawful,"

"When have you ever heard of us to be lawful?" George quizzes her, as he carefully moves down the stairs with her in his arms.

"I've never heard anything about you two," she says, before her eyebrows fury. "How do you two even know me?"

"Who doesn't know you," Fred replies, stopping George as he notices that the staircase is moving.

"What does that mean?" Her tawny brown hair covers her eyes as she tries blowing it out of her eye-line.

"It means everyone thinks you're part of the Weird Sisters," Fred sarcastically says with great enthusiasm.

"Wait, really?" She says doe-eyed before realizing what he's saying is ridiculous.

"We know your name because we felt bad that you tripped because of our prank," George speaks with a light frown, before announcing that they've reached the fourth floor.

The trio moves off the topic as they reach the doors of the hospital wing, where they're greeted by Madam Pomfrey while she is making some sort of potion.

"Hello, Poppy!" Fred grins to Madam Pomfrey as she rolls her eyes, formerly to landing her eyes on the injured Amara. Ushering George to lay Amara onto a bed, she begins to inspect the girl's injury.

"You two scurry off, I'm sure you have class now," Madam Pomfrey insists to the twins.

"Whatever you say, boss," Fred salutes before scurrying off leaving George alone with the two ladies.

"Feel better, Amara," he apprehensively mumbles, before feeling awkward and scutters after Fred.

"Those two are always up to no good," Madam Pomfrey purses his lips, "what's your name, darling?"

"Amara Wright, I have to be in class in about thirty minutes," Amara mutters playing with her hands.

Thoughts swarmed in her head about what had happened in the past twenty minutes, it had been the most time she talked to other Hogwarts student, who wasn't a professor, someone of a different species or someone she knew from the muggle world, for the whole duration of her Hogwarts career. Why was she able to talk to the twins so easily? Why was she so open to talking to them? Every time she tried talking to anyone else she would stutter and blank; for god's sake, she was even nervous to talk to Neville Longbottom.

"It seems you have a broken bone in your leg, possibly in both of them," Madam Pomfrey's voice lifted her out of her trance. "It's a simple fix, don't worry too much, I would like to keep you for another hour, just for safety precautions," She gently smiles at the girl, who breathed a sense of relief.

"I'm just going to do a simple spell on your legs, just stay still."

Nodding her head, Amara shuts her eyes in nervousness, even if she trusted magic with her whole heart, Amara still felt apprehension. She observes Madam Pomfrey casting the spell, moving to the other leg Madam Pomfrey repeats the spell.

Relief floods Amara's body filling up her body as she breathes out a sigh of relief. Even if the constant pain of her legs had dulled and become normal, the dissolution of pain throughout her body was brilliant.

"I feel much better, Madam Pomfrey. May I go to class now?" her tone of voice wavering slightly, knowing she was subverting the orders from a person of authority.

"One hour and a half," she firmly affirms.

"Thirty minutes?" she bargains with restraint.

"fifty minutes," Madam Pomfrey slightly relents, before strolling off to another student in need of help.

Sitting in bed doing nothing Amara felt useless, scanning her eyes across the room Amara notices no one was in eyeshot. If Amara just ran upstairs really quickly and went to grab her books for transfiguration and potions she wouldn't be late for class. Amara's only mantra in life was 'do not be late, that'll draw too much attention'. Amara would even skip class to not be late, living a hermit life had downsides sometimes.

Feeling a streak of bravery and adrenaline from the events of her day so far Amara stands up. Not wobbling or collapsing, Amara grins to herself. Quietly sneaking around to the door of the hospital wing- not being seen, Amara revels in her victory.

Sprinting up the stairs, skipping steps by two's, she reaches the seventh floor in a quick moment. Running to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room, Amara groans at the Fat Lady.

"Ms. Wright! Did I see you with the Weasley twins earlier?"

"Balderdash," Amara quickly states ignoring the painting, before the painting swings open; granting access to her.

Running through the empty common room moving to the girl dormitory's staircase Amara apprehensively runs up the stairs. Making sure to skip the step that she tripped on before Amara advances to her room.

Walking through her shared red and gold room, she moves to her bed. Which leaned against the far back wall in the corner. Shuffling through her chest she grabs her transfiguration book, and some quills and parchment. Looking at herself in the girl's shared mirror she notices how much of a mess she looks. She had forgotten that she had just woken up.

Slipping into a plain white collared shirt, and then putting on a dark gray skirt she sighs; at least the threat of someone walking in and seeing her naked was gone. Quickly grabbing her Gryffindor tie and cardigan, she checks to see if she left her wand in the common room by speedily checking the book bag that was gifted to her by her uncle to see if it was there. Finding her wand in her back she slips it into the back pocket of her skirt. Observing herself in the mirror she lets out a drew out a shaky breath. Her hair looked like a mess, her cheekbones were like a cow in a haystack, and her figure looked terrible in the altered version of her skirt.

'I knew I shouldn't have tried to sew pockets into the skirt, I could've just left it,' she scolded herself.

Taking a last look at herself in the mirror she swoops all her things in her book bag, before heading out of the room. Getting to the common room she grabs her Advanced Potions book.

Giving a brisk look at the clock in the common room, Amara notices the time, 11:30. Mumbling profanities under her breath Amara runs out the door, knowing that she would probably be late to class if she didn't run.

Running off in a dash she opens the portrait and bolts down the stairs, praying that no stairs would move. Bolting down the stairs, Amara feels a slight unease in her legs, discarding that thought at all, Amara continues to go down the stairs.

Reaching the second to the bottom flight, Amara suddenly feels the staircase shifting under her. Biting her lip, Amara holds on tightly to the railing. Her bag in one hand and her hand on the railing they exhale delicately after the staircase freezes in movement and connects to the next flight of stairs. Allowing Amara to continue to the first floor.

Getting to the first floor, she moves hastily and goes to the dungeons. Reaching the doors of Potions Amara realizes she's early. A smile grows on her face before her thoughts turn to the dark side.

She probably disappointed Madam Pomfrey, what if she gets into trouble for this? Would they expel her? Maybe being expelled would be satisfying, she could go to university, get a diploma in biology, live out a life as a marine biologist; that sounded like a content life. But of course, without magic, her life would feel almost empty.

Entering the room, Amara discovers she's the fifth person to be here, there was a group of three Ravenclaw students at the front of the classroom, while two more Gryffindor students sat in the back. Going to go to her regular seat, Amara washes a neutral expression on her face.

As more people flood through the room, Amara feels more and more invisible. Then as soon as Professor Snape enters the room doing his usual sermon, Amara becomes invisible.


	2. Mac and Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara just needs a steaming hot plate of mac and cheese after a Potions.

Advanced Potions is one of Amara's favorite classes, although it was quite desolate; only twelve other kids were in this class, compared to the thirty in her class last year. The change was welcomed, only the people Professor Snape could bear were in her class. Meaning that they were all smart, but not quite show-offs.

In class, they were covering Polyjuice Potion, a complex, but overall enjoyable potion to brew. The class was about halfway done, a half of an hour passing. In part two, step one of the potion, Amara, added a measure of a bicorn horn to the mortar and crushed it up when she felt somebody approach her.

A looming body chills Amara, as Professor Snape passes her desk. His voice quickly complimenting her before he walks away to Cassius Warrington. A Slytherin whose best friend was the infamous Adrien Pucey.

As much as she was grateful the professor didn't utterly hate her, she still disliked when he would emerge from nothingness and examine her potion. Humming along to a bright tune Amara lights the cauldron, only to take it off the heat in a third of a minute. The rest of the Potions went past with a blur, soon Amara was finished with her Polyjuice Potion. Which earned another 'good,' from Snape.

Her lips curling into a smile, she speedily attempts to hide it, only to disappoint.

"Ms. Wright, wipe that smile off your face, the potion was not that extraordinary," Snape said sharply before walking off. Leaving a sullen Amara Wright sitting with her hands quietly in her lap.

'This is why I shouldn't feel any happiness,' Amara's mind regurgitated to her, a frown of disdain of herself gracing her face.

As class comes to an end, Amara was the first one out of the room. Her stomach growling quietly, she decides that she would eat some food before going up to the hospital wing and apologizing to Madam Pomfrey.

Walking to the kitchens Amara scans the surroundings, furrowing her eyebrows she ponders why Hogwarts seemed so deserted today.

'October 30th' rang in her head, oh shit, the Beauxbatons girls and the Durmstrang boys were coming to their school today.

Groaning to herself Amara tickles the pear on the painting, opening the 'secret' passage to the kitchen. Keeping a firm hold on her book bag in comfort, fearing another student may be in the kitchen.

The passage was a terribly kept secret, and the originality of the password lacked. When Amara had a friend they would sneak around the school every night. Always ending up in the kitchen where they would talk and eat a variety of junk foods. Then he left, and Amara was never able to recover from that.

"Hello Krafty, hello Romsy, hello all," she vocalizes, stepping into the kitchen seeing all the little house elves rise to attention at her entrance. Her eyes glide over the room before finding no other human person in the room.

"Oh! Amara Wright," the tiny elf moves from her station to greet the 16-year-old girl, "Romsy has missed Amara Wright."

"I've missed you too Romsy; do you think you could spare me some food?"

"Of course, Amara Wright! Romsy loves to make you food, would you like Romsy to make you some Macaroni and Cheese?" Romsy excitedly said gleaming at her favorite human. As a result, other house-elves looked at her in a bit of disdain.

"Yes please,"

Watching Romsy hurried steps to her station with her oversized ears sticking out of the side of her head caused a smile to blossom onto Amara's face. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen of Hogwarts always astounded Amara. The elves would provide food for all the occupants of Hogwarts which concluded to over a thousand. Helga Hufflepuff truly hit the jackpot by implementing these creatures into Hogwarts.

Her eyes move across the run before it lands on a house elf that looked like they were drunk? Seeing the house-elf crying for an unknown reason stirred something in Amara. Striding over to the house-elf another house-elf approaches her as a result.

"Hi- who are you?" Amara quipped out nervously, this was a house-elf she had never met; most of the ones she knew just ignored her, even when she did something that would need negative attention.

"Hello, miss! I am Dobby, what is your name?"

"I'm Amara, erm- is your friend here alright?"

"Winky has been sad about being freed Winky. Of course, Professor Dumbledore said Winky could come work in Hogwarts, but Winky did not want to leave her master."

"Is she," Amara paused, "drunk?" She whispered glancing at Winky who seemed to be in another world.

"Yes... Winky has been drawing herself in butterbeer. Dobby has been trying to help her, but Winky does not want help." Dobby says a sullen expression on his face as he tries to pry away the butterbeer from Winky's hold.

"Butterbeer? Butterbeer has this serious of an effect?" she inquired to herself quietly, scrunching up her face, witnessing Winky puking in a bucket, while Dobby stroked her back.

Watching poor Winky spill her guts into the bucket, Amara makes a mental note to herself to research hangover potions or antidepressant potions for house-elves.

Looking around the room Amara notices all the other house-elves glaring at Dobby and Winky in repugnance. Taking a glimpse at Romsy, Amara notices she wasn't looking at the dyad. Just making the mac and cheese in content.

Racking her brain on reasons the house-elves would look at the two elves in such a disgraceful way, Amara concludes. They probably think Winky isn't holding up her duties of being a house elf by drawing herself in butterbeer. But why so mean to Dobby?

Not wanting to intrude into Winky's puking, Amara refrains from querying about why they were looking at Dobby with such disgust. Strolling back to Romsy, Amara's face blossoms into a deep frown.

Amara was enamored by house-elves ever since she was a first-year at Hogwarts. The willingness to serve a master for their whole lives with the utmost loyalty; was an alien concept for Amara.

Even with the abuse of their owners, they would be unwaveringly faithful. Amara had a few dozen conversations with the vast amount of house-elves. Who all told her that they loved their jobs and never wanted to be freed. That sometimes blew Amara's mind off her head, but she understood that it was built into their species. A light bulb going off into her head Amara concludes that Dobby was disgraced because of his empathy towards Winky. It still didn't add up perfectly, but Amara thought it was good enough for her.

"Amara Wright, the food is finished!" Romsy widens her gentle grin at Amara, presenting the delicious looking bowl of macaroni and cheese to her.

Grasping the hot bowl of Amara lightly grimaces before smelling the beautiful aroma of the food, "Thank you, Romsy. I think I'll just head to the room of requirement and eat there,"

"No problem, Amara Wright, Romsy loves you!" Romsy gladly exclaimed before running off to continue making food for the feast.

Taking a second glance as she heard those words. Love wasn't a topic to be taken lightly, but Amara couldn't blame Romsy, she was just a house-elf who had spent time with Amara. The poor thing would understandably show an affinity to someone who treated them with dignity.

Rummaging through her book bag, she prays that she remembered to leave a container in her bag. Most of the time she would have a spare container in case she missed breakfast and came to the kitchen, but unfortunately, today was her unlucky day.

"Fuck," her voice swore before she turned her heel.

Her shoulder was begging her bag to hang on, while her hands burned from the heat of the mac and cheese.

Heading to the room of requirement she takes a path through one of the more hidden staircases. Amara internally sighed. This staircase was a very narrow one that spanned the length of all the levels of Hogwarts.

Walking through the desolate halls of the first floor Amara sighs. The slender stairs of this case were terrible, and almost too restricted.

A determined expression washing on her face she reaches the stairs and climbs as quickly as she can. The staircase was so narrow that the walls were centimeters away from squeezing her shoulders against the two walls to the left and right of her.

Awkwardly sprinting up the steps, a watchful peeks at her mac and cheese she winces. 'God this is really hot.' Her hands were doing whatever the stark opposite of frostbite is.

Taking a quick pause she sits down on the stairs to cool down the mac and cheese. Shuffling through a spell to use Amara settles on Galius. She just needed to be able to control the magic to not freeze the entirety of Hogwarts. Putting the mac and cheese down a step delicately, she pulls out her wand from the pocket in her skirt.

"Galius," she states clearly, watching the ice emerge from her wand before a long bang distracts her focus.

Her arm being encapsulated in ice, her eyes widened. Her head quickly moves up to look at who produced the bang, she sees a redhead.

"Looks like you got yourself into a bit of a mess," the Weasley she identified as George Weasley beamed at her.

"A bit? My hand is going to fall off due to hypothermia, and you will be the one to blame." she spat at them, before realizing her mac and cheese wasn't in her field of view.

"Can you be so kind as to see where my bowl of food is? And also can you carry my bookbag for me?" she looked at the tall ginger, who seemed like he would fall apart from laughter in any second.

"Of course your worshipfulness... But it does appear that your hand falling off would be more important than your food," George bit back a shit-eating smile before his wide frame tried to descend the stairs to reach her bookbag, picking it up and holding it.

"No one asked you to be a smart mouth, Weasley," she exclaimed, holding back tears as her arm felt like it was on fire.

"Can you do a spell to help me?" ceasing for a second, "you know what I'll do it myself," Amara sat down on one step, hoping not to fall down the stairs and face death.

"Pass me your wand," she pressed, knowing that her hand that had her wand in it - was frozen into a solid block of crystallized ice.

"What?"

"Give me your wand."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You are going to make my arm fall off if you don't hand me your wand in five seconds," Amara finalized her statement, looking up and sharpening her eyes at the teen boy.

"If you demand so, your worshipfulness," he conceded, handing his lanky wand to the exasperated girl, his usual lazy grin gracing his face.

Gripping his wand Amara tapped the ice, performing the water heating spell - nonverbally.

It was fairly simple; they had been practicing spells of that nature in charms. Her arm felt more numb and numb, she watches the outside of the ice defrosting like an ice cube on a summer day. The magic digs into the ice, crawling in the ice and thawing the ice that encapsulated her arm.

Sensing the feeling in her arm coming back, Amara looks at George.

"Are you just going to stare," her mouth splits into a line, as she watches him sit down on a step.

"I was just getting comfortable," groaning, he stands back up, his shoulder hitting the side of the walls, as he bends down to grab the perfectly frozen bowl of macaroni and cheese. She silently passes him his wand.

"Seems like someone's been sneaking into the kitchen," giving her an accusatory glare, seeing her hand coming back to life as she wiggles her fingers.

George picks up the cold bowl of macaroni and cheese and examines it. Looking at it with curiosity. The bowl of pasta was a subtle tone of yellow, bits of yesterday's dinner chicken mixed in with it. It did smell divine.

"What is this called? I might have to get the house elves to make some for me,"

"Mac and cheese," she whispered, a bit embarrassed by the name of it.

"Pardon?"

"Mac and cheese."

"Excuse me?"

"Mac and cheese," she exclaims, her voice raised so loud she never had ever elevated it like that before.

Slipping the frozen macaroni and cheese into her brown leather book bag, she prays that it doesn't defrost. Then giving it a slight knock, it was almost so frozen, Amara was sure if she breathed on it, her breath would be visible.

"Nice."

"Could you carry my wand for a second?" Amara requests a sarcastic smile.

"I'm already carrying your bookbag, now your wand? I think I'm becoming a slave now," he suggests, outstretching his arm to pick up her wand. Silently slipping it into her bookbag, no notice from Amara.

"Whatever you say, ginger," she remarks, articulating her wrists, the overwhelming red color of her palms right insight.

Standing up from the step, Amara leans up against the left side of the hallway Amara hurriedly grabs her bookbag. Her eyes enlarging she notices that her wand wasn't in George's hand.

"I swear to merlin if you lost my wand, I will murder you," her furious face, growing almost as red as her hand with vexation.

An innocent face sweeping his features, she smacks him in the arm.

"You devil! Where did you put my wand?"

"Calm down, woman. Go check your bag," he blamelessly insists.

Looking into her never-ending book bag she notices her mahogany wand slipped into her bag. Sinlessly sitting on the soft surface of her Gryffindor scarf.

"You did this," she said as he shook his head wordlessly.

"Why are you even here in the first place?" she inquired before looking down to the floor, she was prying again.

'Shut up, shut up, you're the most annoying person I know,' her mind screamed at her.

"I was going to the library, but this is far more interesting."

"I didn't peg you for the nerdy type. Are you going to work on the human transfiguration paper?"

"I'm the smarter twin, y'know. And I'm not going there to study."

"Then what are you doing?" she queried.

He grinned before saying, "Confidential, your worshipfulness."

Becoming awkward she chuckles nervously, "you know that if I go up and you go down that won't work."

"You should come to the library with me. I can sneak in your mac and cheese," he suggests offering her a proposition.

"I have Transfiguration soon," she easily makes an excuse, the excuse was true.

"But, you do have a free period."

"Fine, but only if you take the blame if Madam Pince finds out."

"I knew you loved me," he quips, turning Amara around by her shoulders, so she's facing the down instead of up.

"I just need to finish my Potions work," she says before she heads back to the first-floor library, George following close after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone take an absurdly long amount of time to finish one chapter? It's kind of difficult to be this bad at writing. I'm planning on making updates come out once a week. I usually formulate the chapter for the week and finish it off on Saturday and Sunday.
> 
> -Says me when I'm editing this chapter on a Tuesday.
> 
> -Back on Sunday..-


	3. Library Sessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eating in a library is a sin.

Sitting in a secluded library spot, hidden from the prying eyes of Madam Pince. Amara brings out the bowl of mac and cheese. Doing her best to keep it from making any noise, while keeping a cautious eye on both her surroundings and the food. Next to her, the redheaded boy was two seconds from bursting out into obstreperous laughter.

Incredulously observing him sitting there, about to laugh his butt off - while cool sweat was pouring down her forehead from fear of being caught he was giggling.

Pursing her lips, Amara glares at the boy, "This is hardly a laughable matter," before bringing her attention back to the delicately removing the mac and cheese out of her bag.

Passing a straight-faced look her way, George tugs on the weathered book bag in her grasp. A minute-long war occurred, many stone-cold tugs passed to each side, before the brunette yielded the bag. Grinning, George swiftly brings the- now a bit lukewarm macaroni and cheese out into the open air of the library.

"Come on, if she can bear to hear books flying around and about, she won't notice a small sound." He reassures her, bringing her food onto their shared table.

Saying nothing in return, in fear of drawing attention to herself Amara slides the bowl onto her side of the table. Hoping that the two picked a spot far enough away that the library's keeper wouldn't smell it.

Drawing out her wand Amara gets ready to perform the spell, "Focillo," she mutters while moving her wand in a counterclockwise direction above the food.

The cheesy deliciousness melted from clumpy frozen to thick and liquid-like. Using her body to block the scent of the food from bleeding into the whole library, Amara sighed.

"This would've been much easier if we just went to the room of requirement," she gave out an exasperated noise before he turned at her with a smirk.

"Us? So, you're planning on bringing me too?"

"That's not what I meant," she spoke, stopped for a second before glaring at him, "I just meant that- um- that you were obviously going to follow me."

"Whatever helps you fall asleep at night, love," he grinned her way, before grabbing some parchment and a brand new quill from his over the shoulder knapsack.

"Have you never used that before?" Amara glanced up at him, her eyes previously scouring her book bag for a fork.

"You shouldn't assume things, I used it a few days ago."

"Whatever you say," she mutters before returning her eyes to the interior of her bag again.

"Why don't you just Accio a fork here?" he simply states, dipping his quill into some ink.

"People would see it on its way here, plus I'm not the best at charms," she dejectedly remarks.

George's forehead wrinkles, wondering why the girl was so self-conscious about her magic. "Didn't you get an Outstanding on your charms OWL?" 

"How do you know that?"

"You're in our charms class, Flitwick loves you; I just assumed, I thought you seemed like a person who would, I don't know," a slew of words jumble out of George's mouth as he panics internally, trying to seem composed on the outside.

"I thought you and Fred said that you asked around for my name?"

"We weren't lying about that, hardly anyone talks to you, and Flitwick just calls you Ms. Wright," he quickly makes the excuse, telling a half-truth.

"Alright then," she shrugged, before reaching her entire arm into the bag, before feeling a fork on the bottom side of the bag, squashed up against her extra Gryffindor jumper. A quaint smile blossoming on her naturally rose-colored lips, while her eyes light up as she speedily brings the fork out of the bag.

A quiet silence falls upon the two sixteen-year-olds before they busy themselves with their tasks. For the first time in forever, George Weasley was actually doing work willingly, while Amara was reading over the Gapalott's law while eating her mac and cheese. Intrigue sweeping over her face as she read the law, potions was Amara's favorite subject. Despite the not so understanding, kind, or compassionate teacher, she was always attracted to the subject.

Scooping her fork into the mac and cheese Amara looks at George. He was staring directly at her food, presumably feeling self-pity that he didn't have a dish in front of him. Feeling a wave of empathy wash over herself Amara opens her mouth.

"Find your fork and you can have some."

"Fantastic," his lips curl into a cheeky grin as he uses the Accio charm to summon him a fork.

"Not that way, idiot. Madam Pince is going to see," she scolds the redhead, immediately following her words a fork falls into his hands.

Shrugging at the girl he picks up a few pieces of macaroni on his fork putting it into his mouth. Glowering at the boy, she calms herself down.

"So, where's your other half?" a question that was floating around her mind for a while, she finally had the opportunity to say.

"In Herbology, we both decided I would spend my free break finishing this damn letter. I swear he uses every opportunity to scam his way out of writing," he vented.

"Letter? Who are you writing letters to?" she asked, curiosity springing inside her.

"To mum, she's been on our arses about taking care of Ron and Ginny, especially after the thing at the world cup," he explained, again telling a half-truth, with a bit of a lie giving the mix a grey tint.

"That sucks," Amara uncomfortably pats him gently on the shoulder, before getting back to reading her potions book.

Going back into writing his letter, George takes a peek at Amara. How she could be so interested in potions out of all subjects floored him. He'd only known the girl for a day, but he was already noticing small things about her. How she tapped her fingers on the table as she read, how she bit her lip while she was reading something really interesting, and how her eyebrows slightly raised she took a bite of her macaroni and cheese. He was just surprised that the girl didn't notice how much he had been staring at her.

The two sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, every two minutes or so, one of the two would take a bite of the macaroni and cheese.

Reaching the end of writing his letter George grows restless. He was more patient than his older half, but that didn't mean he had a whole lot.

In contrast to George, Amara had just hit the most interesting part of the law, which had her entranced - not noticing the silence and the growing discomposure of the boy.

Finally having enough, George cleared his throat, causing the brunette girl to transfer her attention to the redhead boy.

"So," waiting for a second for Amara to finish her sentence. "Are you going to transfiguration soon?" he wondered.

Nodding her head after his words; Amara gazes at the sleek spruce clock, "Yeah, in about twenty minutes."

"McGonagall's more strict than usual today. She's mainly talked about," his demeanor changed - trying to imitate Professor McGonagall's demeanor, "we must uphold the reputation and standard of behavior of Hogwarts students."

The impression triggered a small giggle from Amara, a wide grin revealing itself. The innocent laugh-inducing a satisfied smile to spread on George's, while his eyes twinkle with charm."I'll watch out for that," she says, a timid smile gracing her face. "I heard you and Fred talking about scamming your way into the Triwizard Tournament."

A laugh escaping his mouth, no apprehension in his eyes, George quips, "It's not fair that we're turning 17 after the selection date." Leaning in a bit - presumably so no one hears, except for the fact that no one was nearby. "Lee and Fred think that aging potions are a good idea, we don't know how to enter yet - but tonight we'll figure it out."

"Aging potions?" her eyebrows raising a fraction. "Are you sure you aren't going to mess the potion up?"

George puts a hand on his chest in mock disbelief, "That hurts, I can't believe you have that little belief in me."

Anxiety building up in her body, her hands shake no, "No- I'm sorry, I just surmised, it was wrong of me. It's a fourth-year potion, I'm sure you could brew a perfect one."

Gazing up at the boy nervousness consumes her, but when she watches the boy, she finds amusement is splayed all over his face.

"You are awful at detecting sarcasm," he barked out laughter before the two heard footsteps coming their way.

"Pack it up, hurry up," she hurriedly whispers at George, while he just sat with a constant entertained expression.

Amara grabs the macaroni and cheese which sat in between the two teens. The now-empty container being thrown into her leather bag. Looking around their space, Amara buries her head into the Advanced Potions book.

Hearing the loud clicks of Madam Pince's usual high heels, Amara regressed into her second-year self - after she was caught in the library after hours. Emerging from behind a substantial bookcase, Amara held her breath.

"You two!" a snarky feminine voice harshly whispers. "Girl- look me in the eyes," Madam Pince's voice quietly bellowed.

Lifting her head out of her book, she meets Madam Pince's brown wicked eyes. Briskly glancing at George she wanted to smack the boy. He sat with a fat smirk, whilst Madam Pince examined the two.

"Mr. Weasley, why are you in my library?" placing her hands on her hips, her piercing glare laying on the two teens.

"I just needed to write a letter," he shrugged, telling the truth, but it wasn't enough to convince the librarian.

"Girl, why are you here?" she interrogates, watching Amara reduced to the point where her entire face is red.

"Potions book- read potions books," Amara stutters out butchering her grammar. Amara was shy on her own, barely talking to people until- well until today, but when under pressure she was ten times worse. She stuttered and stammered and made a fool out of herself.

"Why is there CHEESE ON MY TABLE!" Madam Pince harshly whispers, spit coming out of her sickly pale face.

Looking at the space on the table she was glaring at, Amara's eyes widened. A piece of melty yellow cheese was splattered on the table. A singular piece of mac and cheese in the lake of cheese.

George shuffled towards Amara, as he slowly put on his bag, while Madam Pince grew red. Giving Amara a look that screamed let's get the hell out of here, she reciprocated it. Amara quickly secures her bag in her arms, while George grabs her arms and pulls her into a run, both of them bolting out of the library. A furious Madam Pince, not even bothering to follow the two, made a mental note to set detention for the two.

Reaching a safe distance away from the library Amara and George halted to a stop. Pausing for a second, the two burst into laughs.

"Her face," Amara said heaving, "it looked like a... tomato," she said before the two burst into laughter again. The two continued to chortle before George mentioned transfiguration. "Oh, shit," she muttered before patting him on the shoulder and taking off in a dash.

Leaving a breathless, smiling, and speechless George behind. Watching her run away, George goes to meet his brother and Lee, with a huge grin spread over his mouth.

____________________

Reaching the transfiguration classroom, Amara sighed. She was a bit late, but not that late as Professor McGonagall hadn't started the lesson yet. She just sat as a cat waiting for the rest of the class to get to class. Taking a look around the class, about three-fourths of the sixth years were here. She scurried to her seat in the back of the classroom.

Observing the rest of her classmates shuffle into the room, Amara sinks into her seat. 'Here we go again.'

Professor McGonagall morphing back into her human self. She started the lesson on human transfiguration, an incredibly dull topic for Amara. She always preferred subjects like potions and astronomy. But there were always worse subjects for Amara, like defense against the dark arts.

"Who can tell me the definition of human transfiguration?" Professor McGonagall's sharp voice vibrated through the class; a flurry of hands responding to the question. "Ms. Burton," Professor McGonagall called on another bright eager Ravenclaw student.

"Human Transfiguration is a sub-branch of and a form in which one transfigures human body parts or an entire human being into another form," Burton repeated straight out of the textbook.

'Memorizing is easy, learning is difficult- anonymous,' Amara's mind came up with a quote.

"Very good, Ms. Burton- 5 points to Ravenclaw. Today we'll be studying changing our appearances, turn to page 127 for instructions," Professor McGonagall said, a low murmur being made by students as everyone turned to the page. "Before we get on with the lesson -- I just wanted to remind you all that the pupils from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be coming today, for the Triwizard tournament. We shall uphold the standards of good behavior and maturity of Hogwarts students."

Flipping to page 127 Amara holds in a timid smile. Immediately being reminded of how accurate George was in his impression. Listening to Professor McGonagall talk about the danger of human transfiguration, Professor McGonagall stated the lesson objective of the day. They were to change their eyebrows to different colors.

A small box summoned on each student's desk - Professor McGonagall told them to transfigure the box into a mirror, and then try to do the eyebrow transfiguration.

The black cube being summoned onto her shared desk, which she shared with no one; Amara did the transforming spell with ease. Watching the box turn into a pretty accented mirror she sighs in content.

'God, imagine if I couldn't do a simple transforming spell in the sixth year,' she thought to herself.

Right after she pondered that, she eavesdropped on someone pointedly whispering to another person, the two occupying the table left of her.

"Are you an idiot- how do you get to NEWT transfiguration, when you can't do a transforming spell?"

"Dumbass, you can't do it too."

"Yeah, everyone knows I barely made it into this class."

"Then why are you penalizing me."

"It makes me feel validated."

The conversation was bewildering to Amara. How did these two idiots get into this class, transformation spells were some of the building blocks of transfiguration; how could someone not understand how to do them. Wanting to reach out and help the two Amara nervously starts sweating. Her mind debating with itself, she wanted to help the two so bad, but she was petrified of them judging her.

"Do you guys need some help?" Amara finds herself asking the two girls, who she quickly identified as a two Hufflepuffs.

"Oh Merlin, yes, please. I'm Misha and this is Patricia," the girl she recognized as the first voice said.

The two girls looked like opposites. Misha had raven hair which was blended into a beautiful fishtail braid, with pitch-black eyes, and South Asian facial features. Another thing someone would notice about her was her great height. Patricia had wavy blonde hair, freckles spotting all over her face, and light brown eyes. Amara recognized them- obviously since they had been in the same year for six years, but she never had names to connect to the people.

"You have to concentrate on the box, using willpower to focus on the box making sure you're willing the box to turn into the mirror," bringing out her wand Amara continues, "then you swish your wand precisely like this," Amara swishes her wand up down and to the side in small error-free movements.

The two girls followed Amara's instructions, which then Misha succeeded in performing the transformation.

"I guess you can tell her how you did it," Amara quietly said, another wave of her shyness came over her, as she turned back to her desk.

Commending herself for her great social skills Amara focuses on doing the eyebrow transfiguration. A glad feeling taking over her for the rest of the class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me way too long to make this chapter. I've been working on it for the whole of today (Saturday) in which I started with around 700 words, and now I have about 2672. Have a great day everyone and I'll be back to edit. 
> 
> -editing note: I should add more italics, I'm reading this fanfiction and every other sentences has italics-


	4. Goblets and Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang brigades arrive.

Stroking her hair, with her pink hair comb; each one of her chestnut hair strands being rid of tangles. Her room, like it is every day, is occupied by her roommates, their boisterous laughter and conversations contributing to the loud noise pollution in Hogwarts. Amara sits in her corner. Staring at her reflection in her small pocket mirror, Amara's lips blush pink spread in a thin line.

Sure Angelina and Alicia were good people. They weren't the worst she could've been paired up with, but hearing their conversations about 'top ten hottest boys in our year' and ' I would drop my panties for Cedric Diggory,' wasn't the most pleasant to listen to. They had tried to include Amara into their friend group in first year, but Amara was difficult and immature. She thought that she was too good to be friends with them - like a pompous brat. She thought that only one friend would suffice for her, but when he left she was proven extremely wrong.

Amara hears the girls bustle out of the room; presumably on their way to the feast. As the door to the room closes shut, she takes that as a sign she should probably leave as well. Smoothing out her Gryffindor robe, fixing up her white button-up shirt, and straightening her red and yellow tie, she lets out a breath.

Walking down the stairs, through Hogwarts; groups of people passed by her chattering. The whole student body shook with excitement over the arrival of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students.

Admittedly she was excited to see the students from the other schools, she had visited Ilvermorny with her uncle. But it wasn't a very exciting trip. She had read up on the two schools the day the notice about the arrival was posted. She had learned that Nicolas Flamel had attended Beauxbatons, that Beauxbatons had the funding of gold alchemists. The school grounds had beautiful architecture, the whole school surrounded by a epic mountain range. 

There wasn't much on Durmstrang, but she learned that its location was kept top secret, people who visited the school had the location of the school erased. The school was adept at the dark arts, which caused a flame of unease to rise in Amara. It was raising offensive dark arts users - that could only lead to problems.

Reaching the entrance hall she saw each head of house ushering their students into lines. Finding the year six area, she slips into the Gryffindor line.

After a few minutes of Professor McGonnagal snapping at fourth years, she finally leads the line of Gryffindors out of the hall. She leads to the end of the hall, the cold evening breeze falls upon her. Seeing first years shivering and fifth years giving their 'crushes' their coat she smiles shaking her head. The twilight sheen of the moon reflected onto the Great Lake, as it illuminated in a pale crescent.

Impatient tapping her heeled boot, she feels someone approach her. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees Misha from Transfiguration.

"Hello there," Misha said happily.

"Hi."

Amara shifts in an awkward way, while Misha moves around the seventh year Slytherin behind Amara to get next to her. Amara gives her an uncomfortable smile, as Misha returns it wholeheartedly.

"So, what do you think they're coming?" Misha says in a cheerful tone, in a substantially better mood than she was in Transfiguration.

"I'm not sure," she curtly responds, playing with her hands.

"I would assume Durmstrang would come by a portkey, " Misha says, revealing her opinions.

Amara quickly answers with her beliefs. "I don't think Durmstrang is going to come by portkey, portkeys can be traced and they want to keep their school's location a secret." Taking a pause she realizes the snarky attitude she just exhibited. "Erm- sorry about that I just don't think Durmstrang would do that."

Misha shakes her hand signaling that it was fine. She moved to say something, but she was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore's voice.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" he called out from the back with all of the other teachers.

Both Misha and Amara heads looked around before their eyes fell on the navy blue sky. It looked like a mass of seagulls were heading towards the school - in Amara's opinion. Her thought was immediately refuted by yells.

"It's a dragon!" a person in the front rows screamed.

"Don't be stupid... it's a flying house!" said another person.

All their guesses were proven wrong when the image became clearer. An immense baby blue carriage, drawn by more than a dozen winged horses bolted towards the school. The horses were very significant, three times the size of a Thestral.

They continued to gawk at the carriage before the first few rows stepped back resulting in a domino effect. This was the aftermath of the carriage hurtling towards the ground at a substantial speed. The collision of the carriage onto the ground made a loud bang, causing Amara to flinch. Being in one of the back rows, Amara was unable to see the carriage. Only seeing the top parts of the horses. Remembering that a very tall person was standing next to her, she taps Misha's shoulder.

"What's happening?" she whispers, not wanting to draw attention.

"A little dude in blue is opening the- blimey what the hell," Misha gasps, seeing a woman that was even taller than Hagrid.

Amara gawks at the woman, seeing the majority of her body over the crowd of people. 'She must be part giant, ' Amara thinks, the woman was the tallest she had ever seen in her life. The woman's bob cut hair cut, with sharp bangs, covered her downturned face. Her neck being surrounded by fur, with a red dress with a strange design surrounding her body.

Suddenly the whole body of Hogwarts started to clap at the entrance, instinctually Amara and Misha followed suit. Soon everyone understood her name was Madame Maxine from eavesdropping on her and Dumbledore's conversation. After finding this out, Madame Maxine signaled her pupils with a wave of her hands to come out of the carriages, and a cluster of Beauxbatons students came prancing out. The Hogwarts students make an entry separating in two blobs, so everyone would be able to view the boys and girls from Beauxbatons making their way to their headmistress in the back.

They each wore dazzling blue silk robes, that were so thin you could probably see through them in the sunlight. Although, they looked like they were freezing from the cool chill of the dusk. Their eyes were looking everywhere, before finally stopping at the ginormous castle. Amara resonated with their looks of admiration.

The first time she came to Hogwarts she knew it was the most beautiful view she had ever seen; possibly the best view ever. It's funny how when you first see something marvelous you think it's the best thing ever, but when you see it regularly you slowly lose respect for it.

Seeing their unusually beautiful faces, an idea hits Amara, feeling like she needed to share it, she tells Misha. "Oh my god, I think they're Veelas."

"Veelas?"

"Like really beautiful creatures, that can magically seduce people, and stuff... I don't really know how to describe it, my uncle used to date one," Amara ranted, her eyes widening.

"I think I'm a Veela then," she responds, a small laugh passing through the two girls before they went silent.

The Beauxbatons students headed to the school, with their great horses following behind them, they all waited in anticipation for Durmstrang to arrive.

"Do you think they'll arrive in a cooler and less cool way?" Misha questioned - a typical query that murmured across the students.

"Cooler, definitely," she replies plainly.

Misha looks at incredulously before responding. "Hard disagree, how can you top Pegasi,"

Looking at Misha in an even more disbelieving way, Amara responds. "There are so many other things in the world that are cooler than Pegasi."

"They're literally flying horses, come on."

Before the two could argue even more, a shout erupts from the crowd.

"The lake!" a Gryffindor boy yelled, pointing at the Great Lake. "Look at the lake!"

Immediately looking at the lake, it seemed like something was emerging from it. The tide moved closer to shore, bubbles rippled through the top of the water. The surface tension of the top of the lake breaking as something tried to pop up out of it. Suddenly the lake started to cave in the middle, leaving a whirlpool to materialize.

Gaping at the sight, Amara whispers, "Holy shit, it's a ship."

The mast of the boat is the first to be revealed. It was shabby, yet intricate, the mast a grey-black color. Then the grand body of the ship appeared. It had a strange skeletal-undead look to it, with its huge portholes illuminating a glow. It looked magnificent, the twilight glow that had been previously reflecting onto the lake's water, now shining bright on the ship. Giving it an even more skeletal intimidating look. The boat rippled up and started smooth sailing on top of the lake. The sight was serene, but a little bit chilling. The anchor of the ship was lowered; the realization coming from the immense splash.

Seeing people leaving the boat Amara notices their silhouettes, contrasting against the bright lights of the portholes. The people came closer and closer and they became more and more apparent.

All of them were males, wearing fur jackets with red uniforms underneath. Their builds were bulky and large, very different from most of the boys in Hogwarts. The man leading the pack of well-built boys was a very Bulgarian looking man. He wore a white coat, with a dark auburn fur collar and hat. He had a strange vertical goatee that was worn on the end of his chin. And scary looking eyes, he looked familiar, but Amara dismissed it as her finding all white old men to look the same.

"Dumbledore!" the man called out, all attention now on him. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore said diplomatically.

The vast difference between Professor Dumbledore and Professor Karkaroff was disquieting. Professor Dumbledore was almost- soft and kind, with a kind tone always underneath. Professor Karkaroff sounded harsh, he looked like he put too much grease on his hair, that it ended up in his vocal cords.

"Dear old Hogwarts," Karkaroff states, gazing up to the castle; his irregularly yellow teeth curling up into a smile. "How good it is to be here, how good... Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold,"

Karkaroff beckoned a student into the light next to him. A shared gasp was shared along the student body. The boy had a curved slightly misaligned nose, with shaved hair and bushy large eyebrows.

"That's Krum," Misha mutters under her breath before understanding what she just said. "That's Krum, that's Krum."

Annoyed Amara looks over to Misha. "I heard you the first time."

"Do you not understand me, this is the world-class Quidditch player, Victor Krum. Do you live under a rock? Have you never played Quidditch? Have you never spoken to a Quidditch player?" Misha says, trying to affirm her standpoint on how severe this topic was to her.

"I'm not an idiot, I know who Victor Krum is, but I just don't know what the big deal is."

"The big deal is Victor Krum," she says, trying not to freak out over Amara being so nonchalant over Victor Krum.

"Do you play Quidditch? Or is your family very interested in Quidditch?" Amara asks.

"I play Quidditch on the Hufflepuff team. I thought everyone knew that, don't you attend Quidditch games?"

"No, I don't," Amara says plainly, scratching her neck at the awkward atmosphere she had just created.

Misha nods her head in response. "You should attend one day, I could get you good seats," she affirms, giving her a small smile.

"Yeah, maybe," Amara says before she hears Professor McGonagall telling everyone to gather in the Great Hall for the feast. "Well, I've got to go now... um- tell Patricia I said hello."

"Cool me too, I'll tell her you said hi, okay bye," Misha said in her usual bubbly tone- totally forgotten how she had been distraught at Amara's lack of caring for Victor Krum.

Watching her skip away Amara sighs. 'God, why did you send so much social interaction my way today. I hope you have nothing else planned for me.'

Walking towards the entrance hall, Amara notices all the people who were swarming with delight and shock at the very understanding The Victor Krum was at Hogwarts.

Looking at Misha a few feet away from her put on her lip gloss as she looked like she was ranting to Patricia about Krum. Glancing away, Amara makes her way into the Great Hall. She notices that the Beauxbaton students were sitting with the Ravenclaws. The Durmstrang boys were sitting with the Slytherins. Rolling her eyes she smiles at the irony, Beauxbatons wear blue so they were attracted to the blue house.

The Beauxbaton kids looked around with disgust- well what Amara made out as disgust. They were wearing shawls on their heads and clutching their cloaks around their bodies.

Sitting on her usual spot on the Gryffindor table, she looks around at her peers. Since she sat in the back, she could see most people's expressions if she looked around. They all seemed sad, probably since most of them idolized Victor Krum. Who sat at their 'enemies' table.

Feeling someone poking her she turns to the first years sitting next to her. "Yes?" she questions.

"Where is Krum sitting?" the little boy asked, his doe eyes staring into Amara's soul.

"At the Slytherin table," she replied plainly, before turning away from him- not before seeing his downcast face.

A few moments pass before the staff and school heads arrive. All the Hogwarts teachers shuffle into their designated seats on the high table. At the end of the line, the three heads of schools sat at the high table. Professor Dumbledore in the middle, and Madame Maxine and Professor Karkaroff on both his sides.

Hearing applause coming from the Ravenclaw table, Amara gives the Beauxbaton pupils a weird look. 'Merlin, they look at Madame Maxime like she's a god.'

Giggles erupt from the first years next to her, probably thinking the same thing as she was. After the Beauxbatons students stop clapping, the Great Hall falls silent, everyone awaiting Dumbledore's welcoming speech.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," said Dumbledore, throwing a kind smile at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

Professor Dumbledore claps his hands and a plethora of food appears on the tables. A myriad of different types of food materializes onto the table. Each dish was filled to the brim, even more food than there usually was. Amara mentally gives thanks to the house elves, before she feels her stomach reach out for food.

Putting what looked like some Bulgarian food on her plate, while piling on some roasted potatoes Amara digs in. The Bulgarian food looked like an elongated piece of meat, that tasted like it contained some pork and beef.

About ten minutes go by and Amara notices one of the Beauxbaton girls walking up to Harry Potter and his friends. All the boys in a six-meter radius were shell shocked by the girl's beauty. Her almost white hair and blue shocking eyes were probably one of the reasons.

'Ah, Veela,' Amara thinks, the Veela even had Amara in a bit of a trance.

Focusing her attention back on her food, she neglects to see Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Senior sit next to each other on a side of the guest heads of schools. But hearing whispers around her she quickly looks up and sees the two men.

Her eyes widening as she sees Barty Crouch senior, she swiftly lowers her head into her plate to avoid him seeing her. 'Merlin, why does he have to be here?' she asks internally.

When Amara was younger her father had worked as a liaison for The Department of International Magical Cooperation which Barty Crouch Senior was head of. As a child, her father would often take her to work with him, but he would neglect her and leave her up to his co-worker and sometimes even superiors to deal with. Barty Crouch Senior was always kind to her, he would consider her his daughter of some sorts. Amara's father had been friends with his son during their school years, so he felt that he could exhibit closeness to the child.

Amara thought she would never see the man again in her life. Especially not after what she had done.

She slowly lifts her head after about three minutes have passed. Swayed to reveal herself by the incoming of the second course of food.

Putting two eclairs on her plate, with a quaint bowl of vanilla bean ice cream Amara relaxes into her seat. Barty Crouches' formerly prying eyes were now focused on Professor Karkaroff who was in deep conversation with him.

After mostly everyone had finished their dessert, each of their golden plates emptied fully. Professor Dumbledore stood, quieting everybody in the Great Hall. The buzz in the air signified a daunting interest for the mysterious Triwizard Tournament.

"The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —" Dumbledore says, the word casket bringing a questioning whisper to fall over the students.

"— just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" small applause sprung up, Amara stays unmoving — "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

The applause was much louder for Bagman than Barty Crouch. Ludo Bagman was a known Quidditch player in his golden days. Now he seemed quite plump and almost too blonde. Bagman smiled at the crowd and waved his arms in appreciation. In stark contrast to Barty Crouch who just addressed the students with a diplomatic nod, nothing less nothing more.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

Everyone leaned forward in an inch at the word champion, Dumbledore acknowledged this with a smile and said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch." Filch emerged from his place in the corner right to the high table, he approached with a huge wooden chest.

Taking a good look at the chest everyone's eyes bulged at it. Jewels of all sorts were encrusted into the exterior trimming of the chest. Everyone's bottoms had risen to get a better look at the old looking vintage chest.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore while Flich set down the chest delicately on the table, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

The hall stood at a stand-still of dead silence, at his words. The electric excitement was dulled by the mention of danger.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore proceeded to whip out his wand and tap it thrice on the top of the 'casket'. It opened in a tantalizingly slow way, small creaks sounding. Reaching inside of the casket, Dumbledore pulls out a wooden cup. It looked like it had been a result of an amateur carpenter. It wasn't something that you would stop and gaze at. But the remarkable thing about the cup was the blue embers flowing to the brim of the cup. Dumbledore levitated the goblet with what Amara assumed was Wingardium Leviosa, and placed it on top of the casket. Now, the anxious first years- and short people were able to see the full beauty of the blue fire goblet.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward." Dumbledore announces.

Amara raises her eyebrows. 'Maybe I just might put my name in the goblet,' she thinks. Before immediately dismissing her thoughts as something incredibly unattainable.

"Tomorrow night Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. "To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract," he says trying to enunciate his words in a soft tone so he doesn't scare the students even more than they are.

Raising her eyebrows, Amara wondered what the magical contract would constitute. Death? Most probably.

"There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all," Professor Dumbledore concludes, a low murmur erupting through the Great Hall.

Standing up from her seat, Amara makes her way upstairs. Halfway up the stairs, making her way to the Gryffindor common room she hears someone calling her name.

Turning around she sees the Weasley twins and who she presumed was Lee Jordan. They make their way next to her. Lee on her right while the twins were on her left.

"What?" she asks, climbing up the stairs.

Lee wraps his arm around her shoulder before she shrugs it away. "Would you do us the grand favor of being our Potioneer?" Lee queries with a smile on his face.

"Are you still planning to do an Aging Potion?" she asks looking at the twins apprehensively.

"Yep," they both say at the same time, Lee Jordan beaming next to her.

"Are you three dull? Dumbledore himself is going to draw that Age Line. And you three believe something as simple as an Aging Potion is going to fool is?"

"It's all reverse psychology," Fred says, pointing to the side of his head.

"He's messing with our minds," George continues.

Lee pops into the twins' mojo, "And that's the true genius to our plan."

"If you three dimwits can find all the ingredients for the Aging Potion, then I'll do it. It's your fault if this plan ends up with you all in the hospital wing," she concludes, stopping and turning to the three boys.

Looking at their gleaming faces, she gives them a sarcastic smile in return.

"Meet us at 9 tomorrow morning, love," George says as the three boys go off and walk upstairs together.

Each of their faces now concentrated on figuring out the logistics of their plan. Shaking her head Amara ponders about what the hell she had just gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was so long. It was also extremely canon-complicit. If anyone can guess what the Bulgarian food Amara ate you get a cookie.


End file.
